(in my case, a volunteer someone) who takes a designers pattern and knits it, testing for mistakes, proper instructions, readibility, etc, etc. Usually before the pattern is released, but often, in the case of the designs I write, after initial release of the pattern.

She done good, I'd say.

Right now I've got 10 people knitting prototypes of three basic designs, but no one is doing quite exactly the same variation.

The 'snowflake peacock' pattern has two major variations, and the second variatiobn can be done in four different minor variations. Another of the patterns has five different shapes that can be knit from the same basic iinstructions; and the third also could be done five ways.

So, it takes a lot of knitting to make sure the instructions are correct. And proof-reading. And correcting. And argueing over definitions and explanations and wording.....

It's clear our Bookman is no fool; For he survived a Catholic school! With all its cold, dogmatic twists, It yardsticks slammed on tender wrists, The sisters gaunt with glares of ice, The place can't have been very nice! But Mom's own son, our Bold Rapaire Made lemonade from lemons, there. In any case, howe'er contrived it, The major thing is, he survived it!

Not only catholic grammar school Did he survive. Perhaps you'll see What a true survivor he: When you learn that he, 'mongst others Was high schooled by the Christian Brothers, And after about six years or so He bacallaureated from Franciscan woe. Versed in Aquinas, Augustine and such Perhaps he's theologized too much.

There's nothing wrong with knowing God, Although the question's tricky But cracking books, and working hard, Can act just like a mickey. Your head can real, your mind can spin Your thoughts start wildly drumming, Until instead of knowing God, You think you have become Him!

Fret not, for it is the simplest explanation for My existence that your puny minds are capable of comprehending. The fact, should you be able to grasp but a microcosmic portion of it, would cause your head to implode and explode at the same time. The closest to actually grasp it was Roger Bacon's Brazen Head, but whether or not that can be called "human" is debatable.

Why would that which is everything have to decide anything, Amos? It is limited beings with a limited reach who have to decide things. For instance, you have to decide whether or not to respond to this post of mine and continue the conversation... ;-)

AH, no, I do not; like Rapaire, my divine Will is universal, and manifestation of it is inevitable. I am full of love and understanding and even forgiveness for numskulled halfwits who misinterpret the true meaning of my posts.